


traurig

by clearlykero



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 16:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearlykero/pseuds/clearlykero
Summary: Natsume is gone, but Madara is still here.





	traurig

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxinsocksinabox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxinsocksinabox/gifts).



> i wrote this many years ago now for my good friend fox's birthday, but i still think about this situation from time to time and then get sad about it.

Human lifespans pass in the blink of an eye. Even the lowest, most insignificant of demons know this; humans aren’t worth wasting one’s time on. But every so often one comes along that they can’t help but look out for, can’t help but grow fond of, can’t help but watch with eyes wide open as their life-light grows fainter and fainter. Every so often there’s a Natsume Reiko— or, as the case might be, a Natsume Takashi.

The way humans count time doesn’t mean very much to Madara and it never has, really, so he can’t say how long has passed since the kid died. Not that he’d been a kid at the end (he’d lasted longer than Reiko, at least— but then Madara hadn’t been quite as protective of Reiko. That one could take care of herself).

Natsume Takashi’s grave is a simple thing, clean grey headstone and a spray of white lilies lying at its foot. They’re pretty but smell bad, left there by the Matoba head. Someone else will probably be along soon and hopefully they’ll move the lilies aside. Madara rests his chin on his crossed paws. There’ve been a lot of people come to visit today, so much so that he’s reverted to his original form so regular humans won’t notice him.

“Reminiscing?” says a deep voice from beside him. Madara doesn’t need the telltale jingling of bells to know who it is.

“Hardly,” he sniffs, tail flicking irritably. “The Book of Friends is mine now— much good it does me with all the names gone.”

Misuzu snorts, stamping his hoof. “I imagine most would see that as a good thing, you being the way you are.”

Madara shoots Misuzu a sideways glare. Misuzu’s was one of the last names Natsume returned, bedridden but still determined to finish the task he’d set his mind to so long ago. Madara hadn’t even put up the pretense of stopping him, not that he’ll ever admit it if anyone confronts him. A not inconsiderable part of him wonders if he’s as transparent as he sometimes thinks he is.

“Have you left this place at all?”

There really isn’t any need to answer that. Everything is suddenly so very _boring_ _,_ and Madara doesn’t see the point in forcing himself to move when he can just stay here indefinitely. He doesn’t have responsibilities, unlike Misuzu, who has his forest to protect. There’s nothing for him to do but drink and laze and listen guiltily for a familiar voice laced with fond irritation.

“Benio is… worried,” Misuzu says, delicately.

“No reason to be. I’m perfectly alright, you can tell her to come see for herself.”

“You could rouse yourself and visit instead—” he stops, because there’s a warning growl rumbling in Madara’s throat. Misuzu is a friend, almost, but there are times even friends shouldn’t pry. If he persists, Madara thinks he might lose his patience.

But the other demon only sighs, a great gust of air that ruffles Madara’s whiskers and the grass under his nose. “Stone-headed fool,” he murmurs, and Madara pretends he can’t hear the pity.


End file.
